


sing the blues (and swallow them too)

by junietuesday25



Series: Be More Aspec [3]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Aromantic Character, Aromantic Michael Mell, Aromantic allosexual character, Friends With Benefits, Internalized Amatonormativity, Internalized Arophobia, M/M, Michael Mell Has ADHD, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual References, Unhealthy Relationships, YES ARO RIGHTS THAT'S AN OFFICIAL TAG NOW, all talk though there's barely any actual sexual content and it's all nongraphic, archive warning is ''chose not to use'' bc i wasn't sure whether or not this counted as underage, boyfs is tagged both / and & bc it's fwb but michael's feelings are purely friendship, other than that it's ''no warnings apply''
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22843306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junietuesday25/pseuds/junietuesday25
Summary: “So, like, is there anything happening between you and Jeremy?”“…There’s nothing at all romantic. But we do kinda have this, like, friends-with-benefits thing going on?”“I knew it! The chemistry’s all there. Is it really not romantic?”“Of course.”But what if this is a crush? Like, Michael finds Jeremy handsome, he loves him a lot, and he likes the sex, so what else is there to romance, really?...your typical boyf riends with benefits fic, but not.
Relationships: Michael Mell & Jeremy Heere, Michael Mell/Jeremy Heere
Series: Be More Aspec [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1638601
Comments: 14
Kudos: 35





	sing the blues (and swallow them too)

**Author's Note:**

> holy fuck guys it's done!! this started as a "i hate how fwbs always end up romantic in fanfic so fuck that here's a fwb that's NOT friends-to-lovers featuring an aro character", and it's still that, but also it went deeper than i thought it would into, like, relationships? and aromanticism? more on that in the end notes
> 
> oh and note on the sexual content: it's all just kissing basically, there's a lot of mentions of sex but it's just dry descriptions of like "me and jeremy kiss and have sex" and then joking innuendos in line with what's often seen in bmc fic. literally the worst of it is in the paragraph near the beginning after "Holy shit. Holy shit?!" where michael describes his past sexual experience w the word "handjob", and after the second line break where words and phrases like "get each other off", "grind down", and "orgasm" are used to vaguely reference the past. no actual sex on-screen
> 
> title from "hum hallelujah" by fall out boy (ty [aro tunes thursday](https://aggressivelyarospec.tumblr.com/tagged/aro-tunes-thursday))

It’s way too fucking cliché, how it starts. They’re bored and lazy in Michael’s basement and Jeremy is hilariously unable to get high. He keeps coughing up the smoke, and at first it was funny, but now they’re just itching for Jeremy to get stoned so they can get to—well, being stoned. 

“Jeremy, I _swear,_ ” Michael says, draped over his beanbag, “my high’s gonna be totally disappeared by the time you manage it.”

“Well, sorry I’m recovering from a sore throat!” Jeremy says, sitting on the beanbag opposite Michael, raspy voice furthering his point. “What, you want me to like, shotgun it or something?”

“Yeah, sure, let’s do it,” says Michael, pushing himself upright. “Come here.”

Jeremy laughs at him for a moment, but then stops when he sees that Michael is perfectly serious and currently raising the lit end of the joint to his lips. Jeremy stares, and Michael gives him a look back, because he’s getting kinda sleepy at this point and while Jeremy laughing at a stoned as fuck Michael _is_ pretty funny, he’d be a shit friend if he didn’t at least try to help Jeremy out. And maybe he wants cuddles, because he gets that way from weed and Jeremy’ll only do it if he’s high too, but SHH.

Jeremy rolls his eyes mostly fondly, leans forward, and puts his mouth on the end of the joint, inhaling as Michael, buzzing with the close quarters (LOOK. He’s gay, Jeremy is cute, don’t blame him), pushes through air. But Jeremy literally fucking chokes on it again, pulling away to hack into his elbow. Michael takes the joint out of his mouth to die laughing at Jeremy, because _oh my god_ he’s acting like this is the first time he’s ever smoked.

“How—how’d you fail that bad,” Michael says, still giggling. “Oh my god.”

“Hello!” Jeremy manages through wheezed coughs. “’M—dying—here. No...concern?”

“Sorry, _are you okay?_ ” Michael’s not really worried; Jeremy’s lived through worse. He has the worst immune system ever, poor guy. (But it does mean that Michael has a lot of chances to dote on him and be the sexy bedside nursemaid or whatever the fuck.)

“Yeah,” Jeremy says flatly, pointedly. “Thanks for asking.”

Michael sighs, then looks at the joint. “Let’s try again, other way?”

Jeremy frowns. “What? Other way?”

“Like, I breathe in the smoke, you come over here, I exhale it in your mouth? Without the joint in the way. I’ve heard that works.”

Michael swears that Jeremy’s face goes all red, but that’s probably just the light of Michael’s lava lamp (which is totally sick, by the way; and sick as in cool, not like diseased, like Jeremy is right now, or, well, has been. Michael got it as soon as he discovered that lava lamps exist—so like, second gradeish?—because the bubbles are just SO visually stimmy, y’know?).

“Dude, no,” Jeremy says. “We’re having this whole issue ‘cause I’m sick.”

“Eh,” Michael says. “I don’t care. Hurry up.”

Michael raises his joint and inhales the smoke. He holds his breath, waving over Jeremy, who literally just stares at him with this “what the fuck” face until Michael has to swallow the smoke, lungs burning with need to exhale.

“Jeremy!” Michael kicks Jeremy’s leg. “Do you even listen to me?”

“Sure I listen to you,” says Jeremy. “When you have good ideas.”

“But you never listen to me!”

Jeremy snickers. “Yeah, exactly.”

“Jeremyyy.” Michael pouts.

“ _Michael._ ”

“Look, I won’t keep bothering you if you just do it! Don’t let your dreams be dreams,” Michael says with a wink, because when he’s stoned he’s allowed to flirt without it being this whole Thing. Like, it’s still a thing _lowercase_ , as in Jeremy rolls his eyes and blushes a little, but it’s not a friendship-ruining “oh my god you like me what the _fuck?_ ” Thing.

Anyway, Michael gives Jeremy puppy eyes, which is kinda mean to be honest because Jeremy whined once about how Michael’s face when he does that is irresistible, a fact which Michael’s shamelessly exploited since. But it’s for a noble and valiant cause that’s for Jeremy’s benefit, so really Jeremy should be thanking him!

Finally, Jeremy scoots closer and, after a brief hesitation, presses his mouth to Michael’s.

Michael’s first thought: _Whoa._

Jeremy’s brilliant mostly-blue eyes are staring into his, and even just this sort-of kiss makes Michael feel totally breathless, even if Jeremy is…not the best kisser, to be fully honest.

 _Because this isn’t a kiss,_ Michael has to forcefully remind himself, which makes his mood sink a little. _This is just a bro helping a bro get high._

But still, Michael barely remembers to breathe the smoke into Jeremy’s mouth—the whole reason they’re doing this—because of how hard his heart is cartwheeling. He almost regrets it, though, when he feels Jeremy pull away moments later.

At least this time Jeremy manages to hold down the smoke.

“Come on, another one,” says Jeremy, who’s finally realized Michael’s genius, and Michael is lowkey embarrassed at how he rushes to comply, scrambling for the joint so he can kiss-not-kiss Jeremy again. Okay, maybe he can practically feel the gay brain taking over, so sue him. 

What happens after is a little fuzzy, to be honest. Blame gay brain. Too busy swooning over guys ~~one guy in particular right now~~ to make his short-term memory function. 

Anyway, one moment, Michael’s pushing the smoke into Jeremy’s mouth, and the next, Jeremy’s winding his fingers into Michael’s hair and kissing him deeper.

Holy shit. Holy shit!?

Well, Michael’s not complaining. He hasn’t kissed too many people before (his sexual experience includes a drunken makeout with some random guy at Jake’s end-of-school party last June who he’s pretty sure doesn’t even go to Middleborough, a handjob in the boys’ bathroom after D&D club with a guy who immediately confessed afterward that he was actually straight and left without reciprocating, and...yeah, no, that’s it), but he knows enough ~~mostly from explicit fanfiction and cable porn~~ not to screw this up. He puts one hand on Jeremy’s hip and the other on his back, pushing his hand under Jeremy’s shirt to rub circles with his fingers. His skin is so soft??

Michael pulls back after a few more moments, tingling all over.

“What was that,” Michael says, sort of mind-blown in the best way possible. Jeremy looks even hotter than usual, somehow, practically ethereal in the dim lighting of the basement. His “dirty” blond hair is glowing at the ends from the light of Michael’s lava lamp, almost like a halo; his bright mostly-blue eyes pierce into Michael’s heart and make him want to squirm and probably like, scream into a pillow with _oh my god he’s so handsome what the FUCK._ Which is like, a purple-prosey description but like, what else is he supposed to say when his stomach feels all wiggly like this?

Jeremy suddenly looks startled.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” Jeremy scrambles backward, putting more than a few inches of room between them. “I just—I thought—”

“The hell are you talking about, Jer,” Michael manages, smiling wide. “That was totally rad.”

Jeremy laughs. But then Michael’s scooting forward on his knees to straddle Jeremy’s lap, and Jeremy’s not laughing anymore. His eyes are wide behind his glasses, his face heating up red. Michael gives himself a small, giddy smile at the sight.

“Is this good?” Michael asks, because he’s not high enough to disregard consent. Thankfully, Jeremy nods, so Michael shifts to wrap his legs around Jeremy’s waist, and carefully leans in to kiss him once more.

* * *

Michael wakes up slowly, drifting into consciousness feeling totally relaxed. He and Jeremy aren’t exactly cuddled together, because Jeremy tends to starfish and Michael’s been told he kicks, but they’re holding hands and Jeremy’s leg is tucked under the body heat between Michael’s leg and the mattress and their breathing is synced up. It’s warm and cozy here snuggled under the blankets—Michael doesn’t want to move for the next few hours, or days, or weeks.

Then it hits Michael that the reason they’re sleeping together like this is because they had sex last night.

All of a sudden Michael is wide awake. Which is annoying, because he’d rather just sleepily enjoy the morning, but sooner or later they’re gonna have to confront...whatever this is between them.

Oh, why is he beating around the bush with his “whatever this is” bullshit. They fucked, plain and simple—for all intents and purposes, anyway (Michael might have actually lost his mind if they went all the way last night)—and Michael has no clue what to do now. He’s suddenly hyperaware of their state of pantslessness, and the memories of last night keep crashing back, and now he can’t relax back into this intimacy even if he wanted to because one, he’s very gay and a cute boy he had sex with is mere inches away from him in his bed his heart cannot handle, and two, _why the hell did they do that??_ What happens now?

Jeremy stirs slightly, making this adorable snort-snore thing as he readjusts, rolling over to wrap an arm around Michael’s middle. Michael doesn’t think he’s breathing. This is everything his fourteen-year-old, gay, yearning self ever dreamed of and more.

A few more moments pass. 

Michael carefully turns over on his side to look down at Jeremy.

Jeremy’s face is smushed into the mattress by Michael’s upper torso, his hair disheveled and tickling Michael’s shoulder. His expression—or, well, what Michael can see of it—is so relaxed in sleep, all the anxieties he feels day-to-day seemingly lost in his dreams. The word that comes to Michael’s mind is “soft”.

God, Michael feels so mushy and gay and in love right now. It’s weird. A good weird, but weird, because he’ll admit he’s imagined this scenario more than a couple of times, but it’s a totally different ballgame when he’s actually _here._

Michael startles when Jeremy’s breathing changes, and sees him slowly blink awake. 

Michael squeezes his eyes shut, takes two deep breaths, then opens them again. Nothing to do now but let whatever will happen, happen.

“Hi,” Michael says, and Jeremy locks eyes with him. All in one moment, Michael practically sees Jeremy come to the same realization Michael did just a few minutes ago, because he shoots right up.

“Holy shit!”

Jeremy immediately looks embarrassed at his outburst, but honestly, Michael probably would’ve done the same thing if Jeremy hadn’t been asleep.

“Holy shit,” Michael agrees.

“Did we do that?”

“We did that.”

A few moments of silence.

“I—uh—” Jeremy stammers, adjusting to sit cross-legged on the bed next to Michael, and Michael can’t stand to meet his eyes. “Do you, um. Regret it?”

What a thing to put on Michael. His answer will change everything between them. 

If he says yes, maybe Jeremy will be upset, or even offended, or probably mad at himself for letting it happen, and Jeremy might feel so guilty that he’ll refuse to make physical contact and/or express emotional intimacy with Michael, like, ever again. But if he says no, maybe Jeremy didn’t actually want it or maybe he’ll think Michael is a creep for actually _enjoying_ having sex with him and being that gay kid who likes his best friend, and all in all Michael has a fifty-fifty shot of getting the right answer and his brain is torn up in thought.

Except, his heart is clearly tugging him toward his true answer.

“No,” Michael admits, chancing a glance up at Jeremy, who’s looking at him so intensely. “I, uh, liked it.” He pauses before he can spill any more detail about how much he’s…thought about Jeremy over the past few years. “…You?”

“Ditto!” Jeremy says, and Michael grins a little at the face Jeremy makes when the word comes out. “I mean. Yeah.” 

He hesitates for a long moment.

“Do you want to, like. Keep doing that?” Jeremy ventures finally, lying back down next to Michael. 

Michael looks over at him, and sees the hope in his eyes. It gives him the courage to get out his next words.

“Dude, to be honest? Absolutely,” Michael says, breaking into a grin. “If you’re down, then I am.”

“Awesome, because same.” Jeremy smiles, holding out his fist. “To doing that, like, all the time?”

Michael snorts and rolls his eyes, but he’s about beaming as he bumps his fist to Jeremy’s. His heart feels all fluffy. “To doing that all the time.”

Michael has to stay home from school with strep throat the next week, but it’s so totally worth it.

* * *

After that, there’s a lot more kissing, and not just when they’re high. They’ve got this sort of weird in-between relationship thing going on; it’s not dating, he doesn’t think, because they don’t really do anything couple-y except for the physical touch part, but he’s also pretty sure platonic friends don’t make out with each other and get each other off, like, every other day—so sue them, they’re horny teenage boys. But then what kind of relationship do they have?

Michael’s been kind of terrified of asking. Maybe, maybe if they put actual words to it Jeremy would realize he doesn’t actually want to keep this going, because, like, words would make it more _solid_ and maybe Jeremy doesn’t truly want this with him. Or maybe Jeremy would want it, but he’d want more than they currently have right now, which is just sex and kissing and basically an otherwise normal friendship. And Michael isn’t quite ready for a boyfriend, despite the fact he’s seventeen and his classmates have been easily dating each other for years and years now. He can’t put into words _why_ dating scares him, but it does.

But Michael finally talks to Jeremy about their relationship, one fine Saturday afternoon as they’re both coming down from orgasm highs. (Because it’s too weird to talk about it any other time, okay? The post-coital haze gives him the courage to ask Jeremy awkward things, or maybe he’s just too tiredly satisfied to be anxious.)

“So, like. What is this?” Michael says, gesturing vaguely between them. They’re sprawled on the floor of Michael’s basement as is now typical, pants tossed to some random corner of the room, after Jeremy had paused the game of Odyssey they were playing to climb onto Michael’s lap and grind down. Michael would grab the TV remote to turn off the screen and end the now-annoying Metro Kingdom music, but he’s too lazy and blissed out to move, here leaning against Jeremy and a Yogibo beanbag.

“What? What do you mean?” says Jeremy, turning to Michael. His hair is mussed from Michael running his fingers through it—it’s a good look on him.

“Like, are we, uh, friends with benefits? Right? ‘Cause this is a, like, no-romance, yes-fucking thing?”

Jeremy frowns slightly. “Oh. I mean...” 

A pause. Jeremy digs his teeth into his bottom lip. Michael can’t read Jeremy’s expression, which is lowkey weird because Michael thought he had Jeremy Face Language down pat.

“Yeah,” Jeremy says finally. “I think so. I mean, that literally does mean friendship with sex, right?”

“Cool,” Michael says, relieved. “Great.”

Well, that’s that, then. Thank god. Maybe he was just making a big deal of things—overreacting to a nonexistent problem.

With that taken care of, Michael musters up the executive function to reach over and grab the remote to turn off the TV, then stumbles to his feet to go and find his underwear—and because he’s such a good friend, he tosses Jeremy his too instead of making him get up. And then because he’s Jeremy’s _best_ friend, he aims for Jeremy’s face, laughing when he hits his target.

“Dude!” Jeremy yells from across the room. “You’re the worst!” But there’s no venom in his tone—he’s even smiling as he wiggles himself back into his boxers.

“I love you too!” says Michael, settling back down beside Jeremy, not even caring when Jeremy punches him lightly in the shoulder.

There’s a few moments of comfortable silence, then Jeremy asks, “You wanna keep playing or just nap?”

“...Nap,” Michael decides, because he’s a sleep-deprived teenager who also just had sex. Tired is more than expected. “Come on.”

He tugs Jeremy to his feet, and they go into Michael’s room branching off the hallway into the main basement. Squishing together under a blanket in Michael’s bed is nothing new, but the new context makes him feel all warm inside as he curls up next to Jeremy and closes his eyes.

For a moment, Jeremy goes stiff, which is weird, because, again, they’ve done this hundreds of times, even before they had the whole sex thing going on. Sure, it’s definitely different now that they kiss all the time, but it’s not a bad different. 

But then Jeremy relaxes, wrapping an arm around Michael and burying his face in his hair, and Michael brushes the tenseness off as a figment of his imagination.

* * *

The two of them are now a bit more physically affectionate in public. Not a huge amount more, because Michael’s not exactly the most cuddly person outside of a room alone with Jeremy (okay, that implies sex and that _is_ now true, but really, he’s usually uncomfortable with being touched unless it’s someone he knows really well has had plenty of time to get used to physical contact with ~~so basically just his family and Jeremy~~ ). Not to mention that Jeremy’s social anxiety, though much improved since last year, is still definitely there. However, Jeremy does let himself hold Michael’s hand and link arms with him even at school; Michael doesn’t stop him, and even does the same, because it sort of makes his heart go all gooey that this is really happening—it sounds stupid, but it’s true. 

Anyway, the affection is apparently enough of a change that the rest of the “squad” notices.

“Are you two finally dating?” Chloe asks without any lead-up whatsoever, as soon as she sits down at the lunch table that Michael and Jeremy now share with the popular kids after the events of the squipcident, which was…now about a year ago. Wow. It’s only been a few weeks since the two of them started sleeping together, though, which is still kinda weird to think about, but really nice. It gives him the warm fuzzies; again, stupid, but true.

“What?” Michael says, and Jeremy snatches his hand away from where their fingers were touching as Rich, in the seat across from them, groans.

“No!” Rich moans, digging around in his pockets. “You two weren’t supposed to get together ‘til at _least_ January—”

“No, no! We’re not dating!” Michael quickly clarifies, and something inside him flips at the thought. Which is more than idiotic because he was literally _just_ thinking that what he and Jeremy have makes him feel all lovey and mushy. So why does the thought of _dating_ him still feel so weird? “That’s—we’re not.”

Jeremy looks down as Rich reaches across the table to shake Michael’s shoulders—a bit too hard, but it’s okay, because at least it shakes the thoughts out of his head.

“Thank _fuck,_ thank _you,_ thank goodness,” Rich says, pocketing his money once again. An entire fucking twenty, because their friends are the _worst._ “Suck on that, Chloe!”

“Good job,” says Chloe. “Now they’ll never get together out of sheer spite.”

“Sheer spite?” Jake says. “I think you’re thinking of you.” A year ago, this remark would’ve had resentment bubbling under the surface, but now it’s just a comeback that Chloe scoffs at.

“ _Ooh,_ ” goes Rich, but then Jeremy seems to snap out of…whatever he was doing.

“Wait,” Jeremy interrupts, “you _bet_ on us getting together?” He twists the sleeve of his cardigan in his hands. “You guys, uh, you’re the greatest friends, you know that?”

Rich winks. “Hell yes. I mean, of course, I’d prefer it if you got with me—”

“Yeah, but thing is, Jeremy has taste,” Brooke says, grinning a little, and Rich sputters.

“Excuse you! I’m _very_ …taste…um. Tasteful?” Rich frowns for a moment, then snaps his fingers. “Tasty! I’m a goddamn snack is what I am. No, I’m breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Eat me, Tallass.”

“Didn’t know you were into vore, but you do you,” Jeremy says, deadpan. “Because I definitely won’t.”

Michael’s already forgotten about his discomfort as he laughs at Rich’s indignant pout.

* * *

Michael and Jenna are in the middle of an extremely intense session of Mario Kart 8 Deluxe after school that day when she decides to ask her question.

“So, like, is there anything happening between you and Jeremy?”

Michael’s character—Luigi—swerves a little, very narrowly avoiding slipping on a banana peel. “I, um—what do you mean?”

Smooth. Almost as smooth as that save from driving right into that banana peel and plummeting to death off the edge of a beanstalk.

“Like, romance, sex, y’know?” Jenna says, tossing a green shell out and nailing Toad right in the back of his Biddybuggy (Michael has no idea how she’s so good at aiming those shells). Jenna as Inkling Girl zooms past him on her Bone Rattler.

Michael doesn’t know how to reply. The “lap three” music’s fevered pitch matches his thoughts as he stutters out another “um”, which is totally embarrassing because he didn’t even know that people actually stuttered like “u-u-um” in real life. Luigi misses the speed boost from bouncing off the Bowser trampoline, and wastes precious seconds winding around the long way.

Michael should declare sabotage if he makes it to the end of this conversation.

“I won’t say anything about it, I swear,” Jenna adds, grip tightening on her Joy-Con as she swings around the turns on the airship. A pause, and then she continues, sort of embarrassedly, “I only, um. Spread rumors because it was the only reason people would, like, talk to me? But now I don’t have to do that anymore since I, uh, well, have friends now. Anything you tell me will stay secret, I promise. I’m just kinda curious.”

Well, Michael can’t just give her nothing for that. And besides, she’s his friend, he _knows_ he can trust her. Anyway, she probably already knows, based on his reaction to her question, because if there was nothing between him and Jeremy he would’ve just said “no” and moved on. So he might as well just spit it out. It’s just kind of—scratch that, _really_ —weird to talk about out loud. 

“There’s nothing at all romantic,” Michael says finally. “But we do kinda have this, like, friends-with-benefits thing going on? It’s pretty, uh, recent.”

A few moments of silence, in which Michael can practically feel the triumph that radiates off of Jenna without even looking over at her. Michael grabs a mystery box, and it lands on the three red shells. Nice.

“I knew it,” Jenna says, and yep there’s definitely a wide grin in her words. She shakes her Joy-Con to get the speed boost as Inkling Girl crests the ramp after the thundercloud area. “The chemistry’s all there. Is it really not romantic?”

“Of course,” Michael says, and for some reason it comes out a little bit...nervous? Defensive? Whatever it is, Jenna latches on to it.

“Really?” Jenna says, and it’s obvious that she’s still just teasing, but it makes Michael’s stomach churn anyway. “Are you sure you’re not just denying a crush?”

“I’m not,” Michael says with 100% certainty. Or, okay, 90% certainty. Or maybe 80%. 78% at the lowest. 

Because, well, until now, he’d never had a crush in his life. Weird as fuck, yes, but it’s true. He may be gay, no question about that, but when he compares what people tell him about crushes to his own experiences with liking people, there’s just this…disconnect. 

But what if _this_ is a crush? Like, he finds Jeremy handsome, he loves him a lot, and he likes the sex, so what else is there to romance, really?

“Oh my god you like him!” Jenna says, grinning as the race ends. She’s in first; Michael has just finished in—drumroll, please— _ninth_ place. He has failed his Mario Kart-ing roots. “I see that face!”

Her doubt in Michael’s assertions, genuine or not, is rubbing off on him; Michael puts down his Joy-Con to pull up the hood of his favorite red hoodie.

“I _don’t,_ ” Michael says tightly. “Okay? I’d tell you if I did.”

Jenna backs off, going stiff. “Sorry,” she says. “I was joking. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Michael says, managing to give her a reassuring smile, because now he feels awful about making her feel bad for the kind of joking around he’d probably do with Jeremy. “Um… Next race? Last one was a fluke, I’m totally gonna demolish you this time.”

“Oh, as _if._ Bring it on.”

* * *

As soon as Jeremy walks into the basement a few hours after Michael’s conversation with Jenna, Michael goes up to him and kisses him, hard, burying his fingers in the soft hair on the back of Jeremy’s neck and wrapping his other arm around Jeremy’s waist. He must have done this probably twenty million times by now, but kissing Jeremy still makes Michael smile despite everything, because Jeremy is just so handsome and—well, maybe not _perfect_ (some of the weird, gross, and rage-inducing incidents that come from knowing someone for thirteen years can never be forgotten), but he gets as close as Michael can ask for.

Jeremy pulls away a few moments later, and asks through slightly gasped breaths, “Not that—I’m complaining, but—but why?”

Michael doesn’t want to talk about all his mixed up thoughts about romance and sex and all the things he feels and doesn’t know if he feels. And anyway, even if he did want to, he _can’t_ , because he and Jeremy have this whole thing going on and it might make things weird between them, or even ruin it altogether, if he talks about the messiness that’s going on with him and attraction _as they’re in a sexual relationship_. He really needs this distraction right now. Forget just distraction, even, he _likes_ this connection they have; it’s warm and comfortable and sweet and so, relievingly simple. So he just says, “I just want to,” and pulls Jeremy back in, walking them backward toward Michael’s room.

Afterward, when they’re lying on Michael’s bed next to each other playing Minecraft PE with a blanket draped over themselves and their legs tangled together beneath it, Michael has the vague thought that this is what he wants for himself in the future: a best friend to also have sex with, no romance involved. He’s not sure what that says about him.

* * *

Tonight Michael and Jeremy are binging movies on Netflix, sprawled on Jeremy’s bed on their stomachs in front of Jeremy’s laptop. They’re at the end of the movie, and the main guy and girl are cheerfully sucking face, and yay they’re together happily ever after! Plus all the extras are dancing in the background all paired up, because how else could anyone ever be happy?

Maybe he’s just the weird one. No one else seems to have any problems with this kind of thing.

Michael sighs under his breath, slumping deeper into the mattress.

Jeremy looks over at him. “I think it’s nice,” he says, and Michael supposes he’s not too far off from what Michael’s actually upset about. “After everything the world threw at them, they’ve managed to find each other again, and they finally get to have their happy ending in each other’s arms.”

“Well, I guess,” Michael says reluctantly, rolling onto his back to look up at Jeremy. “It’s just like—” he waves a hand “—they’re implying that the ending is only happy _because_ they’re kissing at the end, ignoring that they saved the world and solved the whole zombie apocalypse. I mean, that’s a pretty big thing.”

“Come on, you don’t want to have your happy ending in love with someone?” says Jeremy, turning to prop himself up on an elbow.

“I—” Michael fumbles for a reply. “I mean, um, well, yeah, of course, I guess—”

It’s not like he’s never thought about it before. Half the time the yearning is strong and he desperately wants to find some guy to smooch and cuddle and live gayly ever after with—but the other half of the time, when he imagines settling down with someone and getting married, it feels…disconcerting.

His moms would say that he’s far too young to have commitment issues. Not that the idea is totally unfounded—like, look at the squipcident—but that doesn’t really feel like the problem here.

“Ha, remember when we said we wanted to get married?” Jeremy says, grinning and poking him, and Michael is super thankful because he had no clue where he was going with his earlier words. “We were gonna have a big chocolate cake shaped like Pikachu.”

“Oh my god,” Michael says, laughing as the memory returns, pushing the other thoughts out of his mind. He grabs Jeremy’s arm. “I wanted Clyde—” that being Jeremy’s cat “—to be the ring-bearer.”

“Y’know, I wouldn’t object to marrying you now,” Jeremy says, and Michael’s train of thought screeches to a halt.

“So you admit it,” Michael says, struggling to keep his tone playful, because _holy shit._ His answer really only comes out on autopilot. “You want this rockin’ bod, don’t you?”

“I’m already getting that ‘rockin’ bod’,” Jeremy says, snorting. “What about the—the rockin’ heart?”

Michael’s torn between an “oof” or an “aww”.

“Dude,” Michael says fondly. “That’s kinda gay.” 

He searches for more eloquent words than “that’s gay”, but comes up short.

But it doesn’t matter anyway, because Jeremy’s already standing up, saying, “I’m gonna go grab more chips.”

* * *

It’s the next morning when Michael slowly blinks awake to see Jeremy propped up on an elbow next to him, staring down at him with this… _expression_. It’s so tender, Michael feels like he’s intruding on something, and yet it makes his skin crawl to see. This look is tender in all the wrong ways, like it’s a 3DS cartridge and Michael is a DS, without the right slot to accept it. 

Then Jeremy realizes that Michael is awake, and the expression changes back to a normal, relaxed, just-awoken look so quickly that Michael isn’t sure that the other one was even there at all. Jeremy says, “‘Sup.”

“Good morning,” Michael says cautiously. This, combined with last night, makes him want to push Jeremy far away and give himself some time to _think._ Because, like, is Jeremy actually into him?

Well… If he was gonna date anyone, he’d rather it be Jeremy. Jeremy is nice, and handsome, so like, if Jeremy asked him out, it wouldn’t be the worst thing ever. It’s just…strange to think about?

Jeremy’s grin wavers slightly at the evidently lackluster reply. “Are you okay?” he asks, sitting up all the way, and Michael lets out a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, of course!” he says, twisting his fingers into his hair. He changes the subject: “I’m hungry, is there breakfast?”

“Yeah, me,” Jeremy says, hilariously quickly. “If you know what I mean.”

Michael laughs at him, rolling his eyes. “How long were you waiting to use that one?”

“Shut up!” Jeremy’s blushing, which Michael secretly thinks is the cutest thing in the world, except then that thought is soured by the fact that Jeremy is more than likely romantically into him. Yay. “What if I was actually horny?”

Michael tries to shake the thoughts out of his head. It’s not that big of a deal if Jeremy likes him, right? Michael can just…pretend he hasn’t noticed. He doesn’t have to acknowledge it yet, or hopefully ever, as long as Jeremy keeps it chill and Michael doesn’t freak.

Michael says, hopefully sounding normal, “Then you’d masturbate for probably like, the bajillionth time this month while I went off and found some real food.”

“Asshole.”

If Michael knew how to, he’d definitely be doing a suggestive eyebrow wiggle right about now. “You like this asshole, don’t you?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Dude, I’m not complaining if you wanna top today.”

Jeremy chokes. Michael grins at the reaction. See, everything can stay totally cool and normal between them! He has nothing to worry about!

Never mind the soft look in Jeremy’s eyes that comes back when Michael reaches up to hook his arms behind Jeremy’s neck and kisses him.

* * *

“Um, Mom?” Michael says, as he puts away the dishes from the dishwasher and his mom makes lunch. “I…kind of have a problem?”

“Yes?” Mom says, and so Michael wonders where to begin as he stacks bowls in the cabinet.

“So, uh, there’s this guy I like,” he says finally, and Mom turns to him. Because he supposes he hasn’t mentioned ever liking anyone before.

He’s not even truly sure about why he’s talking about this to Mom, because while his mothers are wonderful (and definitely way less shitty than many of the adults he knows), this is still a weird topic of conversation; isn’t he supposed to be old enough to deal with this himself? And both of his mothers are solidly in the category of “firm believer of romance”—not that he can blame them, seeing as their love story could come from a sapphic rom-com (they first met at Mom’s parents’ bakery, and ended up going to the same college, and it was all uphill from there), but it makes it harder for them to understand his point of view that yes, seriously, he’s fully content to put romance on the back-burner at this point in his life, can we please stop talking about this.

But he supposes it’s just too weird _not_ to go to his moms for advice. They’ve always been good about listening to him and trying to work through things together, even if they of course aren’t perfect.

“Oh?” Mom says, grinning at the word “like”.

“Not like that,” Michael quickly clarifies. “Like, I think he’s cute? But not a crush. Though like, we’ve sort of—” _been fucking a bunch,_ is the honest finish to that, but is he about to say that outright to his mother? Absolutely the fuck not “—like, done stuff,” he says vaguely, internally dying at even just that, but it’s not really like that part can just be removed from the story. “But now he wants me to, like, date him? And I’m…scared. For some reason. Because I like him, obviously, and it makes _sense_ that we start dating, and even all ou—my friends think we should be boyfriends, but also I’m terrified of dating him?”

“Well, first of all,” Mom says, “don’t let ‘this person’—” Michael does not like the implied quotation marks “—make you do anything you don’t want to do. That’s most important, okay?”

“Mm-hm.”

“So is it that you want to date him and it’s just nerves?” Mom asks, and Michael pauses, thinking. Because he knows the thought of dating Jeremy feels scary, but maybe it’s actually the kind of scary where it’s because it’s new?

“I guess,” Michael says finally. “I don’t know.”

“Well, then, you have to remember that whoever this is, if you’ve been doing that ‘stuff’, I hope that means you trust him and have already been communicating with him,” Mom says. “Just tell him about what you’re worried about! If he really likes you, he’ll listen.”

“Okay,” Michael says, and while the advice is all sound, it’s the putting it into practice that concerns him. 

Because, look, he’s the worst at talking about feelings. He’s worked at getting better, especially over the past year and a bit after the squipcident, but if there’s a situation where he has to deal with emotions, his first instinct is still to crack a joke or whatever and avoid the really heavy stuff. He’s sort of just bad at emotions in general, really—other people’s, his own, whatever. The only thing he can do with emotions is feel them way too strongly.

“…So,” Mom says, a few moments later. “Who is it? Is it Jeremy?”

Michael sputters, racking his brain for a response that won’t cause his immediate doom. Thankfully, Mom takes pity on him and laughs.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to answer,” she says. She winks. “Yet.”

* * *

“Hey, Jeremy?”

“Hm?”

Michael and Jeremy are at 7-Eleven in preparation for their plans later that night: hanging out in Michael’s basement and playing video games for about ten hours straight. Which requires snackage. Lots and lots of snackage.

“I—” 

Michael’s trying to follow his mom’s advice, he really is, but he has absolutely no clue how to phrase this.

_Hey, so I was terrified to death about the thought that you might romantically like me, and so I’m here to say that if you do like me, please try to terminate those feelings immediately because I do not reciprocate, like, at all. Groovy? Groovy._

Jeremy grabs a pack of Double-Delight Oreos with Peanut Butter ‘n Chocolate Crème off a shelf, pauses, then takes another. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Michael says slowly. “I was just—I, um.” He stops. ”So you know how in the stories, FWBs always turn into relationships?”

_Great job, Michael. That made perfect sense._

Jeremy freezes halfway through grabbing a third pack of Oreos. “Uh—uh-huh?”

“Well. Uhm. I sort of—”

“Excuse me?” some college-age, stoner-looking guy in a gray zip-up cuts in. “Just gonna—” he reaches around and pulls a three-ounce bag of gummy bears off the shelf “—than _ks._ ”

College Stoner Guy leaves, flashing a pair of fingerguns before leaving the aisle. Michael has the painful vision of himself as that person in four years.

“Um,” Jeremy says, awkwardly. “You—you were saying?”

But Michael’s nerve vanished at the interruption. He says, “N-Never mind,” and crosses to the counter, dropping his purchases in front of Lake, who works the 3–11 PM shift at the counter on Fridays. They’re a cool person. They’re studying to be an aerospace engineer, and they don’t tease Michael about Jeremy being his boyfriend.

“One large cherry slushie and a blue raspberry, same size, please,” Michael says to Lake as Jeremy comes up next to him and puts down his own snacks. 

Later, out in the parking lot alone, Jeremy says to Michael as they’re piling the bags of snacks in the PT Cruiser, “You know you can, um, tell me stuff? Like, anything. Right?”

“Of course,” Michael says quietly. Jeremy looks at him, opens his mouth, then closes it again. 

Michael doesn’t meet Jeremy’s eyes as he climbs into the driver’s seat.

* * *

“Hey,” Jeremy whispers that night, just as they’re about to fall asleep, snuggled together to protect from the cold of this _freaking Northeastern weather,_ fuck New Jersey. “I, um…I really like you.”

Michael’s heart sinks down to his stomach, where it sloshes around and makes him want to throw up. He knew he should’ve just spit everything out at the 7-Eleven.

“I really like you too,” he says evasively. “We’re best friends.”

“No,” Jeremy says, and now Michael’s heart and stomach drop all the way down to his toes. “I mean, like, _like_ like. Like crush like.”

“Um,” Michael says intelligently.

Here it is, out in the open, no more flirting and dancing around the topic. There’s no way for Michael to ignore it now. 

He’s…not exactly sure how to react to Jeremy dropping that bombshell on him. Michael feels betrayed, almost, which is stupid because he has no right to be upset. Jeremy is the one who just shot his shot and was rewarded with the guy he likes responding with not exactly the most rousing of “yes, I’m in love with you too!”s.

“Are—are you okay?” Jeremy ventures after a few moments of silence. Michael looks anywhere but at Jeremy, and doesn’t dare move.

“Uh, yeah…” Michael’s words are just above a whisper. “I just…”

Jeremy turns on his side toward Michael, and Michael can’t help but glance over. And oh _no_ there are tears shimmering in Jeremy’s eyes he can’t handle Jeremy crying, especially when he’s the cause of it and he can’t do anything to make him feel better.

“No, no, I get it,” Jeremy says, voice wavering just enough that only Michael would notice. “I’m sorry I said anything, it was stupid.”

“It wasn’t—” Michael lets out a breath as the protest dies on his lips. If he’s honest, he’s kind of bitter Jeremy had to acknowledge that he’d “caught feelings”, which definitely makes him a horrible person. But everything was already perfect. Why does Jeremy want it any different? “Uh—”

“What’s wrong with me?” Jeremy whispers, almost to no one. “Why d-don’t you like me?”

“What?” Michael’s voice is too high when he insists, “There isn’t—there’s nothing wrong with you! It’s—it’s me, if anything—”

That doesn’t help the situation at all. If anything, the words make Jeremy even more upset.

“Really?” he demands, suddenly shifting to anger. “I thought we had something more than ‘it’s not you, it’s me’! I told you I love you—”

Holy _shit._

“—because I thought we had something—something special together, but—”

“But we _do,_ right?” Michael tries. “We’re literally best friends? With benefits? That’s—”

“I mean something _real,_ ” Jeremy gets out, and Michael’s blood runs cold.

“Oh.”

They lie there for a few moments, Michael’s heart racing. Finally, Michael manages, “Bathroom,” and stands up and bursts into the hall, not even bothering to grab his glasses. He barely remembers to catch the door from slamming when he tries to collect himself in the hallway bathroom.

Jeremy has a way of giving him panic attacks in bathrooms. Michael splashes water in his face, hoping that’ll clear his head for even just a minute.

Oh _god._ How could things have gone so downhill so quickly? What deities are out to get Michael? Because his luck over the past year and a half has been less-than-stellar. 

Jeremy hates him. No, worse, Jeremy probably hates _himself_ for saying anything and getting such a bad response, and when Jeremy is upset he lashes out—see earlier—and isolates himself, and Michael won’t be able to help him because he’s the cause of that upset and Jeremy will most certainly be avoiding him like the plague. 

Michael takes one deep breath, two, a third, and then, although he contemplates getting out the air mattress, he climbs back into bed beside Jeremy, because it might be even more painfully awkward if he acknowledges what happened to such an extent. 

Jeremy turns over to face the wall, so Michael is just left staring at Jeremy’s back.

* * *

The next morning, Jeremy is gone, and there’s no sign Jeremy was ever even here by the time Michael wakes up and notices.

Michael takes a minute to screech into his pillow.

Why was he so _stupid?_ Why couldn’t he have just played along, gone with what Jeremy was saying even if it felt so unsettling? It can’t be so bad to date Jeremy, definitely not any worse than Jeremy being mad at him. Hell, he should’ve been _excited_ at the prospect of dating Jeremy, or at least prepared for it, because isn’t that what all of these friends-with-benefits things end up as? The confession was inevitable. Now Michael just has to suck it up and figure out his next move.

Quietly, Michael pulls himself up out of bed, tugs on his hoodie, then makes his way downstairs. Normally after a sleepover, Jeremy would be here with him, the two of them scrounging through the fridge for anything vaguely meal-shaped, then once they’d finished eating they’d watch TV on the couch in the living room and share snacks and blankets, laughter permeating the house. 

But now there’s just silence, and Michael pointedly ignoring the urge to cry.

* * *

Jeremy ignores him at school over the next week. Jeremy takes any empty desk across the room in whatever classes they share, and refuses to acknowledge Michael in the halls, and each and every instance feels like a punch to the gut. It’s Optic Nerve Blocking all over again; he thought he was way so over this—it happened over a year ago now—but he has to keep reminding himself that Jeremy _can_ see him, Jeremy’s just choosing to ignore him, he’s visible, people _see_ him, he’s _real,_ someone would notice if he just disappeared—

Michael bumps into someone.

“Sorry,” he mutters without taking off his headphones, moving to sidestep the person, but they’re already grabbing his arm and oh, it’s Christine. She’s looking concerned. She’s mouthing something that Michael can’t understand, so he pulls off his headphones, tugging his arm back. He frowns, because they’re in the middle of the hallway during passing period and people are giving them dirty looks for holding up traffic, but Christine doesn’t seem to care.

“Hey, Michael,” Christine says. Then, “What’s up with you and Jeremy? Are you okay?”

So that’s why she bothered to talk to him.

And that’s not fair, because of everyone in the “squip squad”, Christine is the one closest to his “dorky weirdo” vibe, and thus the one he clicked with easiest. She’s been so kind to him, even before the whole squip thing happened. He’s just…having a shit week.

“What?” Michael says. His lungs feel too small. “We’re—it’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” says Christine. “Because I’ve been talking to Jeremy and he’s all torn up about, um, everything but I also wanna hear your side.”

“There’s nothing to ‘my side’,” Michael insists again. “It’s—he, um, he said he likes me and I mega-freaked, even though we’ve been friends with fucking _benefits_ for months. I know, stupid.” He clenches his jaw against the sudden prickle in his eyes. “I don’t even know why.”

“Your feelings aren’t stupid,” Christine says. “I remember feeling terrified too when I found out a boy liked me in middle school; before I knew I was ace I thought I was being stupid too.”

Michael laughs, nervously. “I’m not ace.”

He knows he’s not ace. He’s considered the idea of being asexual a couple times before, but it never went anywhere. Like, he knows he regularly feels sexual attraction to people, and the whole definition of asexuality is, well, the exact opposite of that. Hell, his whole problem started because he was sexually into Jeremy and let it grow into a whole thing instead of just keeping it in his pants and letting it stay comfortably platonic. There’s no way he could be ace.

“I know, but point stands that—” Then Christine shakes her head. “Sorry to pry. I’m just worried about you. You’ve seemed kind of upset for a while now. And you haven’t argued this badly with Jeremy since, like, last year.”

“I know,” Michael says, a knot in his throat. “But it’s okay, I’ve got this.”

And he has, because this week made up his mind. He knows what he has to do to fix everything. Last time the solution was Mountain Dew Red—and this one is just as simple.

* * *

“Jeremy!” Michael yells across the hall at school the next day, and Jeremy stops and turns on what looks like pure instinct before his face sours.

“What,” Jeremy says.

Michael runs up to Jeremy, and hopes his eyes don’t betray his nerves. Oh, god, he should’ve practiced this more, like who just blurts out something like this in the middle of a crowded high school hallway, he should’ve planned this out properly, he should’ve— 

“I want to, um—I want to date you.”

Michael holds Jeremy’s stare, despite the urge to squirm away and hide. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and balls them into tight fists.

Jeremy sighs, turning away to glare at the floor.

“I don’t want your pity date, Michael,” he says defeatedly, and Michael’s stomach twists.

“It’s not a pity date! I, uh, I was...scared to admit it, and I’ve...liked you for years, so I-I-I was um, covering it up, and when you said you liked me back I was so shocked I didn’t know what to say and I was so scared I almost blew it and um. Yeah.”

It sounds plausible enough, Michael starts to believe it himself.

“Are you serious?” Jeremy says, seeming to scrutinize him.

Michael pulls apart a dust bunny in his pocket. “Solemnly swear.”

Jeremy tentatively grins. He looks so excited, it’d be cute in another situation. “So, like, boyfriends? Can we be boyfriends, I mean?”

Michael nods, trying hard to smile. “Boyfriends.”

* * *

They walk down the hallway hand-in-hand, and Jeremy swings their arms between them, grinning to himself. To Michael, it feels so fake, like he’s an actor putting on a mask and stepping onto a stage, rather than a teenager who just got his first boyfriend. 

Why is he so much less giddy than Jeremy, so much less infatuated with puppy love? Why isn’t he happy about this? Isn’t every other complaint of everyone else in high school “why can’t I get a datemate”? He should be overjoyed and head-over-heels in love. Instead he feels like hiding in his room for the next hundred years to escape all this…stuff.

Michael grits his teeth, frustrated. What a stupid thing to agonize over.

No one else seems to realize that anything’s wrong with Michael as he and Jeremy sit down at lunch with the rest of the squad. Jeremy’s grinning as he hooks his arm through Michael’s and leans on his shoulder, and somehow he notices nothing about how stiff Michael’s shoulders are. Michael forces himself to relax as Rich absolutely _lights up._

“YES!” Rich exclaims, slamming his hands on the table. “THANK YOU! PAY UP, VALENTINE!”

“Oh fuck you,” Chloe says, sliding a twenty across to him. “I should’ve known better than to trust these idiots to know that they like each other by December. I thought even you two couldn’t be dense enough to take so long.”

Michael doesn’t know what to say to that. He does like Jeremy, right? How stupid, of course he does. Maybe he’s just uncomfortable with the lovey-dovey physical affection, but does still want to date him…

“Sorry to disappoint, but we made it there in the end!” Jeremy says cheerfully. He seems so alien to Michael, being so upbeat. In any other situation, Michael would be so glad that Jeremy’s getting happier, but now, for whatever reason, it just adds to his sinking mood.

“Hell yeah we did,” Michael says, and hates that his grin feels so forced.

* * *

Jeremy goes over to Michael’s house that afternoon. Jeremy refuses to let go of Michael’s hand, and so as they pass through the kitchen to go to the basement door, Michael’s little sister Sophie spots them as she devours a bowl of ice cream.

“Oh my god,” she says, and Michael prepares himself, because now that Sophie knows the rest of the house definitely will by the end of the day. “Oh my god finally! I knew it! I knew it, I _knew_ it!!”

“Yeah,” Michael manages. “Woo!”

Jeremy glances over at him as they go down the stairs to the basement.

“You okay?” he asks. “You sound…off.”

“Just—tired,” Michael says quickly, turning to flick off the stairway lights. “I, um, haven’t been getting much sleep…because I thought I fucked up our, um, relationship for good…”

“Oh,” Jeremy says as they settle on the couch in front of the TV. “I’m sorry. I never apologized for snapping at you. And avoiding you at school. I just, like, got upset because, um—never mind, it’s not an excuse. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” says Michael, leaning on Jeremy’s shoulder so he doesn’t have to look him in the eye. “You thought you’d, like, been turned down, so…”

Michael feels Jeremy nod in seeming relief. That Michael isn’t mad at him? That Michael understands? 

He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why Jeremy wanted things to change—it seems like every time Michael is getting comfy with where their relationship is, Jeremy just has to turn everything upside-down and send Michael careening all over again. He doesn’t understand how Jeremy could just suddenly catch feelings for him in the middle of their sex thing, and he doesn’t understand why that makes him feel so… _violated._

“You’re a good friend,” Jeremy says, reaching over to grab Michael’s hand. He looks down at their joined hands, then grins. “And a great boyfriend.”

“You too,” Michael says quietly.

* * *

It’s about three hours later of blasting his eardrums out while playing _Yet Another Zombie Defense HD_ on Switch, Jeremy long gone, when Michael finally has to face his family’s reaction to his and Jeremy’s relationship.

His headphones are pulled off where they’d been clamped on his head, and he hears his mom say, “Don’t listen to music that loud, you’ll go deaf. And we’ve been calling you upstairs.”

“Oh,” says Michael, hitting pause on the game, then the music. “Sorry.”

“You’d hear us if you didn’t always have your headphones on,” Mom says, and Michael’s basically just learned to tune out this frequent admonishment. “We’re having dinner.” She grins. “And discussing this new development with you.”

The thought makes Michael want to throw up, but instead he smiles and nods, following his mom upstairs, where apparently they’re having Chinese takeout for dinner. So fancy.

“So,” Mama says as soon as Michael sits down, leaning forward across the table with a wide smile. “I heard that you’re dating Jeremy?”

“Yeah,” Michael mumbles, stuffing his mouth with rice so he doesn’t have to elaborate.

“I’m so proud,” Mom fake-sniffles, in between bites of crab rangoon. “My son and my practically-son have finally gotten together. This is the best moment of my life.”

Sophie smirks at Michael as he feels his face go flushed. He’s barely tasting the food he’s eating.

“Aw, look, you’re embarrassing him,” Sophie says, all condescendingly-sweet, and Michael genuinely wants to strangle her. “Let up a bit.”

“It’s just that my son has finally gotten a boyfriend!” says Mama. “And Jeremy, at that. I thought they’d never figure it out. This is exciting!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael says, and he would’ve thumped his head on the table if not for the plate in front of him. “Go ahead, get it all out.”

Somebody save him.

* * *

The next big development comes when someone new at the Middleborough GSA shows up wearing a pin on their hat saying “aro/ace”.

“It means I don’t feel sexual or romantic attraction,” the kid explains, and all of a sudden Michael’s leg is bouncing at, like, a light year a second.

As soon as Michael gets home, he looks up “aro”.

Google forwards him to “aromantic”.

“Aromantic,” reads the highlighted definition. “A person who experiences little or no romantic attraction to others.”

Michael slams his computer shut and sits back, heart hammering in his chest.

* * *

“Oh, hi,” says Jeremy when Michael enters his room (yeah, Michael has a key to Jeremy’s house; honestly, it would be impractical if he _didn’t_ ). Jeremy stands up from where he’d been at his desk, maybe, like, watching porn or something, who knows with him. “What—”

Michael steps forward and hugs Jeremy for a long moment, burying his face in Jeremy’s shoulder and just breathing, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. Jeremy raises his arms to wrap around Michael’s sides, though his voice is tinged with confusion.

“Um, not complaining at _all,_ ” Jeremy says, “but like, uh. Are you okay?”

Michael swallows, then pulls back enough to speak.

“Yeah,” he says, holding on for just a few more moments. “Just. Needed that.”

* * *

Michael can’t be aromantic. He just can’t. He’s literally in the middle of a _romantic relationship,_ for crying out loud! Yes, okay, it’s a relationship in which he feels viscerally uncomfortable doing anything remotely romantic (no matter how guilty it makes him feel to see Jeremy’s face every time Michael pulls away), but it’s a relationship all the same. And either way, the definition for aro came up on _Asexuality_.org, and he’s only ever found stuff about aromantic _asexuals_ online in his research, and it’s been established that he’s not ace.

But. It sounds so close.

But Jeremy might abandon him altogether if Michael suddenly comes out with “I don’t feel romantic attraction” in the middle of their fucking _relationship._ He can’t lose Jeremy. He can’t lose what they have.

But aromantic seems so _fitting,_ or it would if it weren’t an ace thing. It would explain so much about a lot of his life. It would mean there are other people like him.

But—

“For fuck’s _sake._ ” Michael thumps his head down on his pillow and tangles his fingers in his hair and yanks, hard enough for him to flinch.

It doesn’t even matter anyway. He should just drop the idea. Whether or not he decides the word fits won’t change anything about his current “dating Jeremy” issue. And who says he even needs another label anyway.

* * *

The idea is still planted firmly in his mind when Michael goes over to Jeremy’s house the next afternoon to play video games, like they’ve done a million times before. Except Michael can’t help but feel on edge as he tries to help set up the console.

Key word: “tries”.

“Where’s the—” Michael mutters under his breath, digging through Jeremy’s shelf of cartridges and disks in search of his copy of _Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword._ “—the stupid—” he knocks over a perilously balanced stack of cases, which crashes to the floor with a clatter “— _shit_ —!”

Michael drops to his knees to pick everything up, but then he feels Jeremy’s hands on his wrists to stop him. Michael jerks back, glancing up, and Jeremy’s looking at him with concern, plus a bit of sadness when he pulls his hands away.

“It’s okay!” Jeremy says, sitting back with his palms up. “It’s not that big of a deal.” He pauses, eyes going a little wider. “Michael, you’re shaking.”

Michael looks down, and clenches his fists when he realizes Jeremy’s right. “Oh.”

“Michael, I—when I said you can talk to me, I was serious, okay?” Jeremy hesitates. “E-Ever since we started, um, dating, it’s like, you’re—”

“It’s like I’m _what?_ ” Michael snaps, everything suddenly feeling like _too much_ for him to handle. “Like I’m fucking everything up? Like I don’t care about y—this? I’m _trying_ to be nor—”

Michael cuts himself off when he realizes he’s close to tears, and stares down at the carpet in front of him, the anger suddenly draining away to leave him just…tired. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I shouldn’t’ve yelled.”

He feels Jeremy tentatively take his hand.

“Hey,” Jeremy says softly. “It’s okay.”

A warm wave of love for Jeremy pulses through Michael’s chest, cutting through the cold clammy fear. It’s followed up by a stab of stark relief when Jeremy kissing him still makes his heart skip a beat the same way it used to.

He’s not totally broken. He can fix this.

* * *

“Mama?” Michael asks one Sunday afternoon, entering the living room where his mother is watching _Good Omens_ on Amazon Prime. He’s armed with a hand-calculated total of all his money added up from various Christmases, birthdays, and his first communion back in second grade, a bulleted list of things that Jeremy likes organized by category, and a final list of things that Western society classifies as “romantic”. “Can you help me?”

He drops down, sitting cross-legged on the couch next to Mama as she looks over at him.

“Shoot,” she says, her voice twisting up into a question at the end when she takes in the papers he spreads out between them. “What’s this?”

“That’s what I’m asking about,” Michael explains. “I need help. With Jeremy. To do something big and romantic for him.”

“ _Oh,_ ” says Mama, and there’s a hint of amusement in her tone as she pauses the episode to focus fully on Michael’s predicament. She reaches for the sheet of paper labelled in blue pen across the top as “Things that Couples Do” (because blue ink has all sorts of scientifically proven benefits over black) and reads over it. “All right. Any particular occasion we’re planning for?”

“No,” Michael says, and wavers, uncertain how much to say. It’s his _mom,_ which is a point both for and against saying anything, as he’s hashed out before. But he supposes she can’t help if she doesn’t know the full story.

“I’m just, like, trying to…prove that I love him?” Michael says finally. He rushes on at his mother’s intense look, gesturing helplessly, “Because, like, I’ve been trying to—I’ve _been_ kissing him and spending time with him and all that dating stuff, but I-I-I’m not—I’m _bad_ at this—this whole, _relationship_ thing, and that’s my fault, but Jeremy—I think Jeremy thinks I, like, hate him or something, and I-I _don’t,_ I’m just—”

“Michael, slow down,” Mama says, putting her hands on his knees, and Michael only realizes that he hadn’t breathed once during that whole emotional infodump when he gasps in a heavy breath at the touch. “Anak, it’s okay if your relationship isn’t perfect. It’s okay if you’re not perfect. I’ll help you with this if you really want me to, but I can’t see any reason why Jeremy would think you hate him. You’ve been best friends since you were in Pre-K, I think he knows you well enough to know you love him.”

 _But that’s the problem,_ Michael doesn’t say. _I can’t love him how I’m supposed to. And he’s catching on._

“And even if he didn’t know,” Mama continues, oblivious to Michael’s rapidly sinking mood, “that’s why you _talk_ to each other.”

“I know, that’s what Mom said too.” Michael looks down, taking off his bracelet and twisting the sparkly pink telephone-wire curls around his fingers. “And I’m _trying,_ it’s just. Hard.”

Trying, trying, trying. A common theme in Michael’s life, along with failing, failing, failing.

* * *

**micycle mell:** hey, christine?  
  
have you ever heard of aromanticness?

Michael’s chest twists with guilt as he types out the messages the next day. It feels so awful to be trying to learn more about this idea while he’s still dating someone, but there’s just this…pull inside him toward “aromantic” that he can’t refuse. And, well, the overwhelming anxiety about having to have a conversation with Jeremy about everything that’s been going on has pushed him toward this still anxiety-inducing, but much safer, option of texting Christine, because according to his ADHD, he can only do scary things if he’s doing it to put something even scarier off for later.

Christine is really, really involved with the ace community. If there’s anyone for him to talk to, it’s her.

**christiiiiine:** Yeah!! Why?  
  
**micycle mell:** just curious  
  
is there such thing as being aro and allo?  
  
**christiiiiine:** Yeah like allosexual? Totally! non ace aros definitely exist  
  
Like how alloro aces exist aroallos are just as common too  
  
Plus a bunch of other kinds of non ace aros  
  


Michael’s heart pounds.

**micycle mell:** oh cool  
  
thanks  
  
**christiiiiine:** Yup!!  
  
<3  
  
**micycle mell:** <333  
  
**christiiiiine:** <3333333  
  


Michael takes a deep breath as he drops his phone on his desk beside him.

Maybe him being aromantic isn’t so far-fetched at all.

* * *

How is he going to tell Jeremy?

Should he even tell Jeremy?

Duh, of course he should. Michael is a good friend, dammit. It’d be cruel to Jeremy to keep up this charade when Michael doesn’t even love him the right way at all; Jeremy deserves to date someone who’s properly in love with him, someone who can do all the affectionate things Jeremy “Hopeless Romantic” Heere clearly wants, someone who can give Jeremy the romantic attention he deserves. Michael is excellent at being a best friend to Jeremy, and a pretty great best friend with benefits if he says so himself, but he’s not so skilled at being a good boyfriend.

But a selfish part of Michael wants to just pretend a little longer, wants to have Jeremy for just a bit more time. He remembers how warm and happy their relationship made him feel, all the soft emotions buzzing in his heart, and he still loves the kisses and the sex and the casual intimacy dearly—that’ll definitely all go away once Michael confesses. Now that he’s had a taste of how loving Jeremy feels, he doesn’t want to give it all up.

But an even more selfish part of him is itching to get _out_ of this romantic relationship that he doesn’t even enjoy and just admit the truth. There’s a reason why he used the past tense to describe his happiness with his and Jeremy’s relationship—it was wonderful and heart-stopping and everything he could’ve wished for before, but now that it’s romantic, Michael knows he doesn’t want it. The idea of telling the truth is terrifying, yes, but how long can he keep pretending to be someone he isn’t? If there’s one thing Michael fully and honestly believes in, it’s “be true to yourself”, and that’s obviously the opposite of hiding in this romantic relationship because he’s too scared to admit his aromanticism.

Michael loves Jeremy.

Michael is likely aromantic.

The facts are adding up, and whether or not Michael likes it, he knows what he has to do.

* * *

“Jeremy, I—I have to tell you something.”

About a week after Michael’s realization, he and Jeremy are in Jeremy’s bedroom, taking a brief snack break from playing _Apocalypse of the Damned_ ’s PVP mode. All week, Michael’s been working up the courage to get out the words he has to say, and, well, this lull in the action of their gaming sesh is as good a time as any.

“Mhm?” says Jeremy, around a mouthful of Doritos. It’s so painfully _Jeremy_ that Michael’s heart is suddenly lodged in his throat.

What is he doing?

He desperately wants to say “never mind!” and go back to AotD and let everything stay just as it is. It’s fine here! “Here” has Jeremy and someone to kiss and have sex with regularly and this bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos open in front of him. What else could a person want out of life, really?

But Michael knows he has to do this. He’s been promising to talk to Jeremy for weeks and weeks now. It’s more than time for them to have a proper conversation.

Michael swallows, pushing his heart down to its proper place in his chest, and says, “I’m aromantic, Jeremy.”

Silence. Jeremy’s frozen on the bed next to Michael.

“It means I don’t fall in love with people.”

His voice becomes slowly quieter as he speaks. Jeremy’s still staring at him.

“So—so—so what, um, what’s…” Jeremy licks his lips. Michael can practically see him wrestle down his stammer. “A-Are, uh, are we… Does that—”

Michael’s voice is barely above a whisper when he says, “I’m breaking up with you.”

Jeremy stares down at the mattress, staring hard enough at the Bulbasaur on his bedsheets that Michael would swear he’s trying to blow the innocent dino-plant-creature up with Supermanesque laser vision. And doesn’t Michael just get the stupidest thoughts when he’s nervous.

Now that the words are out, the jittery anxiety is gone, replaced with cold dread as Michael pulls his silicone UFO necklace up to his mouth and bites it, awaiting Jeremy’s next words. Yes, Michael knows this was the right thing to do, but of course waiting for Jeremy’s reaction is still absolutely terrifying.

“I’m glad you told me,” Jeremy says finally, deliberately, and Michael looks up at him. “That was brave.”

Michael expected, like, sobbing, or “but _why?_ ”s, or “did you ever really love me?”, or anything along those romantic drama-y lines. And maybe it makes him an asshole for thinking so low of Jeremy, but he’s pleasantly surprised—and hella relieved—to find what seems to be acceptance.

“It’s good you broke up with me,” Jeremy continues, and Michael wants to comment on how sad Jeremy looks at the words, but decides not to interrupt. “You weren’t happy with me.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael says, and okay, he’s man enough to admit he’s about to cry. “I do love you. Just not romantically. I’m sorry for not being a good boyfriend. You deserve one.”

“You shouldn’t’ve had to be my boyfriend in the first place,” says Jeremy. “I’m sorry for making you feel like you had to date me.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” says Michael, insistent. He pauses. “Well, maybe a bit. But I was also trying to convince myself I was nor—alloromantic. So not _totally_ your fault.”

Jeremy’s grin is wavering slightly, but it’s there. “Hug?”

Michael puts aside the bags of chips to hug Jeremy tight, and yeah, he cries. But Jeremy’s crying too, so.

When they finally pull apart a few minutes later, Michael says, pushing under his glasses to wipe at his eyes, “Our parents are gonna be so pissed when they find out we broke up.”

Jeremy laughs, though it’s still a little watery. “Our parents? Try Rich. You think Chloe’s gonna take back her money?”

“Oh, obviously,” Michael says. “I’ll buy you a slushie if she shrieks in the middle of the cafe when we tell her.”

The relaxed air feels so good. Michael didn’t realize how much he missed his best friend.

* * *

The day after they come back from February vacation, Michael walks into school with a green and grayscale patch on the arm of his hoodie.

“I bear horrible news,” Michael says as he sits down at the squad’s cafeteria table, his bright grin contrasting with the grim words. Christine’s here instead of sitting with the theater kids, and Jenna’s decided to break her schedule of table drifting Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and instead has chosen to sit with them on the first day back, which means the squad is complete today. “You’ll never believe it.”

Somehow, Michael actually gets the whole table’s attention.

“Let me guess,” says Jake, leaning forward. “7-Eleven closed?”

Michael covers his eyes with a hand. “Jakemiah Elizabeth Dillinger, don’t even joke about that.”

Chloe wrinkles her nose. “Elizabeth?” she says. “Like that girl who told—”

“Never mind,” says Michael, and in the back of his mind he wonders at how he got to the level of friendship where he could cut off Chloe fucking Valentine midsentence. “Jeremy? Wanna do the honors?”

Jeremy’s smirking at the dramatics, but duly says, “Me and Michael broke up over break.”

Michael owes Jeremy a slushie.

* * *

Sure, things aren’t quite perfect.

Okay, scratch that, things aren’t anywhere near the realm of perfect.

Michael doesn’t miss how Jeremy still looks a little upset every time Michael mentions their relationship, even in passing; despite what Jeremy insists, Michael’s pretty sure that Jeremy is still crushing hard on him. Of what intensity, Michael’s not sure, but it’s up there. And Jeremy’s way more cautious about touching Michael, even just for regular bro-type sleepover couch- and bed-sharing and such, which sucks big-time because he’s the only person Michael has to fill his “human physical contact” quota.

And Michael is still trying to work out all the internalized shit around his aromanticism, like being okay with the facts that he doesn’t want to date anyone ever and that he truly hasn’t ever had a crush. He never knew he cared so much about romance until he realized that he doesn’t want it, which sounds sort of contradictory, actually, though it’s the truth. Because only now a sense of…loss, almost, is hitting him about how he’s never gonna fall in love and hit the same life milestones as everyone else around him, even though he’s also definitely happy about that fact. 

But life is getting there. And honestly, Michael is happy.

**Author's Note:**

>   * the aro being associated with asexuality thing was important for me to include. like, i'm typing in the tags for this fic and when i wrote "aromantic" it tried to point me to "aromantic asexual" "aromantic asexual" "aromantic asexual", and yes, some aros are ace, but many also aren't! any time aros are mentioned, aces are always alongside, which hurts both aroallos _and_ alloaces (although alloace is still a far, far more common hc). anyway pls make/hc more aroallo and non-sam aromantic characters
>   * i took special care to make jeremy a full-fledged character and not a plot device in this fic. part of the bitterness i have with fwb fics is that the person who isn't in love w the other (at first, until they "admit the truth" or whatever) is often treated (usually out of nowhere) like they're a bad person for, what, not being romantically attracted to the person you're in a friends-with-benefits relationship with? as in a relationship that's established as sexual and platonic? but i also didn't want to do something similar but the other way around, where jeremy's bad for just being in love with michael (bc he wasn't intending to pressure michael into in a relationship—it'd be bad if he was doing it purposefully though) so i put a lot of thought into what jeremy's thinking throughout the fic. that's its whole own thing though (maybe i'll write another part from jeremy's pov?)
>   * basically this fic is like making a playing card castle or something, like "how many traits from myself can i project onto michael without toppling him over" i mean, gay? aro(allo)? filipino? adhd? and i didn't make him explicitly trans but i specifically worded it so he's not explicitly cis either
>   * phrases like “more than friends” and “just friends” are used to refer to romantic relationships over platonic in this fic. this reflects michael’s internalized amatonormativity, but relationships aren’t actually worth more or less based on whether they’re romantic, platonic, or anything else, and it’s better to word it using phrases like “other than friends” or “we’re friends”, which doesn’t put down platonic relationships. just thought it was important to note
>   * [i made a playlist for the fic](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLGGbdqKnGkM0pHxxafbrsz-vaZ2jKkElQ)
>   * my tumblr is @junietuesday if you wanna chat!
>   * comments and kudos are both greatly appreciated!
> 



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